


Urs-A-Ka-Gan part 1

by primreceded



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King, Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-24
Updated: 2009-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:23:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primreceded/pseuds/primreceded





	Urs-A-Ka-Gan part 1

Title: Urs-A-Ka-Gan  
Rating: R  
Fandom: Supernatural/Dark Tower  
Disclaimer: All Supernatural characters, recognizable settings and or themes belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, and others. All The Dark Tower characters, recognizable settings and or themes belong to Stephen King. I am in no way earning money or other profit from this fanfic.  
Char/Pair: Sam/Dean, others  
Prompt: None  
Spoilers: None. Set during season 3 of Supernatural but refers to nothing after Sin City  
Warnings: Wincest, language, violence  
W/C: 15,005  
A/N: See notes.

They’re in Maine, forest full of trees that are tall, taller, _finally something bigger than you, Sammy_. It’s a downtime between demons, a chance to get back to their roots and vanquish a good old fashioned boogeyman. Dean’s been itching for a fight, something other than the Hail Marys and the In Nomine Patris. Something other than The Deal looming over his head.

After Ohio they’d driven around for a while, knocked out a few exorcisms, and Dean had done his best not to include Ruby in any of those. Tried to put the image of Sam bursting into the room and shooting Casey where she stood and the thought of Sam coming back not quite right out of his head. It’s not easy.

He does it, but it’s not easy, and he can’t stop, can’t slow down because any moment that he’s idle the thoughts creep back up, and he finds himself looking at Sam like he doesn’t know who his brother is anymore.

It’s wild and _huge_ , what they’re after, bowling over trees like they’re nothing and scaring the hell out of anyone who comes in contact with it. Some say bear; those who aren’t afraid to label themselves as crazy cry monster. Dean doesn’t know, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to be underfoot when it comes a-callin’.

They’ve been searching since noon, spent the morning talking to witnesses and trying to make sense of just what they're here to hunt. It's hard getting a straight answer out of people who're scared. As much as he wants to forget about the demons for a while, he can’t help but wonder if maybe they’re wasting their time. If maybe it’s not just a case of too much alcohol.

Sam’s somewhere, an opposite direction with the order to call Dean as soon as he stumbles across anything. Not that they know what they’re looking for, exactly, but anything out of the ordinary is a step in the right direction. The handful of people they talked to hadn’t been in the same area, all reporting different locations in the woods where the thing had attacked them, so he and Sam are pretty much going in blind.

His cell phone rings and he switches the Glock he’s carrying into his other hand before reaching into his pocket to pull it out.

“Yeah?”

“Keep walking straight,” comes Sam’s voice over the line, tinny, hushed , and Dean breaks out into a jog, phone still pressed to his ear. Sam doesn’t sound like he’s in trouble, in fact he sounds a little bit like he’s in _awe_ , but Dean has never been one to take chances when it comes to his brother.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think we’re dealing with Winnie the Pooh here.”

“Lions and tigers and - ”

Dean breaks through the last line of trees a minute later and stumbles into what he can only describe as annihilation. It’s hard to see in the dark, but the beam of his flashlight and strength of the moon are bright enough that he can get a general idea. There are trees down for possibly miles - as far as he can see, at least - ripped up straight from the roots and lying rotten in the dying grass. Sam stands in the middle, and when he spots Dean he slaps his phone shut and walks towards him.

“Holy shit,” Dean says.

“Do you know of any bears that can do something like this?” Sam asks when he finally reaches Dean’s side.

“Could be a demo crew? Maybe they’re building some new yuppy condos,” Dean provides, but even as the words leave his mouth he knows that can’t be true.

“There are no tracks, plus they wouldn’t just leave the trees like that.”

Dean lets out a long breath and makes his way forward. The yellowed grass is thick and weeded, gets caught up on the toes of his boots as he walks, and he has to balance to keep from toppling over.

“There’s gotta be some kind of explanation for it. Some kind of government thing, maybe? A testing site or somethin’.”

“I don’t know, maybe. But that doesn’t explain the claims we‘ve heard.” Sam comes up beside him and squats to run his hand through the dying grass, prods at a nearby fallen tree. “You think a demon could do something like this?”

Dean doesn’t know, and he tells Sam as much. “It’s entirely possible, they’re certainly strong enough, if pissed off, but what’s here that a demon could possibly want? Let’s go, do some research on the area. Should probably call up Bobby too, see what he knows.”

Sam nods and straightens, brushes his hands along his jeans, and they turn to head back. They’re almost at the border of the woods again when the ground suddenly shakes, and they stop short. It’s a small vibration, maybe an aftershock of an aftershock from an earthquake. They flick off their flashlights and listen hard, but there’s no sound. Whatever it is, it's coming from pretty far away.

Going in blind is a bad idea, especially with very little in the way of munitions. Dean grabs hold of Sam’s arm and squeezes, steps forward and pulls Sam with him, _let’s go before it gets closer_. He barely sees Sam nod again, and he lets his hand drop before starting forward.

Without his flashlight, it’s darker than when he first stepped through the line of trees, and with his attention still focused on the rumbling from the ground, he doesn’t see the large branch at his feet and trips. He throws his arms out in front to catch himself, but he still hits his knees pretty hard - they’ll be bruised in the morning. His left hand lands on a fallen tree trunk, ends up in something sticky and gross.

“Shit, Dean, you okay?” Sam’s hand comes down on his shoulder, and then he’s shining his flashlight in Dean’s eyes. Squinting against the beam, Dean looks down at his hand. When he pulls it back, long trails of _something_ come with it, and he makes a disgusted noise.

“Is that some kind of snot?” There’s laughter in Sam’s voice when he asks, and Dean glares at him. Heaving himself to his feet, he shakes the slime from his hand as best he can.

If he happens to wipe the rest on the back of his brother’s jacket on the way back to the car, it’s well deserved.

\---  


  
“Well, there’s nothing in Dad’s journal about demons possessing animals,” Dean says as he closes the leather bound book with a sigh. “Doesn’t make it impossible, though. Could be he just never heard of something like that.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. It would be a pretty smart move, wouldn’t it? No one would ever suspect an innocent animal.”

Dean grunts in acknowledgement as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and hauls himself to his feet, slipping on his shoes. His eyes burn a little from squinting at his father’s handwriting for two hours (and _no_ , he doesn’t need glasses, thank you very much, _Sam_ ), and he’s ready for a break.

The motel room is tinier than usual, but there’s two beds with hideous covers and a table for Sam to spread his research over. Plus there’s enough hot water for the both of them, if Dean’s in a generous enough mood to share, that is. Beggars can’t be choosers, anyway, as the saying goes.

“Going for food, any special requests?”

Sam absently waves his hand and doesn’t bother looking up from his laptop. Dean knows he means _whatever_ and most likely _vegetables_ , but he’ll probably end up getting Sam something gross because it‘s his big brother duty. Though vegetables are pretty gross in Dean’s opinion. Except onions.

The trip to the diner is uneventful, though he does manage to score free pie from the pretty waitress behind the counter. She‘s old enough to be his mother, but she‘s still a looker. He wonders absently how she ended up working in some crap diner somewhere when her looks alone could‘ve gotten her anything, but it‘s none of his business. He‘s in no position to judge, either.

Sam’s in the same spot when he wanders back into their motel room, bent over the table and scribbling away on some scrap of paper. Dean pushes the books and the laptop off the to the side, plops the plastic bag full of food down in their spot, and sits in the chair opposite his brother. Sam shoots him the bitchface, of course.

“You know, one of these days your face is going to get stuck like that,” Dean tells him as he pulls the Styrofoam containers from the bag. Sam merely flips him off in answer and grabs the box Dean pushes towards him.

“Liver, Dean? When have you ever seen me eat liver?”

Dean shrugs before popping a piece of his own dinner into his mouth. The chicken practically melts, and he groans, “Dunno, Sam. You’re always eating healthy crap like that: tofu, sprouts. Figured ya‘d like it.”

He tries to put on as innocent of a look as he can, but he knows he’s failing, can’t hide the smirk. Sam must not be in the mood to argue because he just frowns and reaches for the ketchup packets. Party pooper.

Dean stops him with a fork to the back of his hand before he can drench his food in ketchup, “You gonna eat those onions?”

Sam huffs, annoyed, but still picks up his box and scrapes the fried onions from atop his liver onto Dean’s chicken. Dean grins up at him in thanks and doesn’t even laugh when Sam makes disgusted noises as he finally tucks into his meal.

“So I found a couple of things while you were gone,” Sam says once they've finished eating. Dean belches and Sam throws him a look as he sits back, patting his stomach and grinning. “Demon possession of animals is apparently not impossible. In early Christianity, Pope Saint Hilarius - ” Sam pauses and grins a little as Dean snorts, because yeah.

“Anyway,” he starts again, “he believed that animals could become possessed by demons just like humans.” He reaches across the table and sifts through his notes, coming up with a printed sheet from some website. He pushes it towards Dean and continues while Dean reads the highlighted passage, “The Roman people also believed in animal possession, among other things.”

Dean pushes the paper back towards Sam, then stands up and heads towards his duffel to start pulling out clothes. The case seems pretty cut and dry to him: find the bear, exorcise the bear ( and there’s a sentence he’d never thought he’d ever think) and be done with it.

“Shouldn’t take long then, right? We head out tomorrow to track the sucker down and put it out of its misery.”

“Maybe,” Sam says with a shrug. He’s not completely convinced that a demon is what they’re dealing with, Dean knows.

“Well, either way, man, we can’t do anything else tonight. Going out there in the dark again would be suicide.” Dean straightens and marches over to the bathroom. “I say tonight, we go out and have a good time. Or, at least, I’ll have a good time, you can sit there all emo and watch.” He shoots Sam a grin over his shoulder before slamming the bathroom door closed.


End file.
